I wrote this poem because I've been a "late bloomer" with most things in my life and I wanted to portray this in a poem. I'm relating myself to a flower bud.
Tightly clasped in my personal hell a flower bud, without much to tell. I hide myself from gazing eyes until it feels right to reach the skies.
Should I peek out and try to bloom? If I come out will I face doom? Would it be safe to stay and hide? Or should I leave my fear aside?
If I stay a bud, how will I grow? If I stay this way I'll never know. All this fear is just nothing new so I'll decide to follow through.
I've open now, the sun is so warm it's starting to feel so good in this form. Now I've bloomed; I feel so free. It's about time I clearly see all I needed to arrange in order to face my fears and change.
Its a beautiful write. Remember that the late bloomers are the ones that are the most beautiful later on. While the rest are withering and dying, you are still in the beauty of your youth.
You may be a late bloomer, Ash. But the colors of your petals are showing at the edges of your bud...your reader can tell this by the content of this poem.
The content of this poem is very good, the topic being covered well, but not overly done, There are some punctuations that could be done to improve the flow, and a few words might be removed, or changed to improve the music in the piece. If you would like me to suggest some could-be changes, please e-mail me...I don't like to be too critical in reviews.
I enjoyed reading this poem
Nameste
ice